Andromeda's War (Legion of the Damned Book 3) (28 page)

It was a good plan, too good to share with a spy, even one that he liked. “I don’t know,” Pudu lied. “I’ll think about it. Come . . . You must be thirsty and hungry as well. We will feast, and you will tell me stories.”

Pudu pulled the zurna’s head around, sent an order through the neural connection that linked them together, and felt the beast take off. His knees hurt, but his mind was sharp, and it felt good to be alive.

—

What the Paguumis called Three Fingers was a rock formation comprised of three sandstone pillars. And when Team One-Five arrived, it was to discover that Huzz and approximately three thousand warriors were waiting. McKee could see few signs of organization as the locals rode in circles, raced each other, or brewed tea. But Kambi assured McKee that she was looking at a highly disciplined horde that consisted of three zin (battalions) and thirty gan (companies), all led by seasoned veterans. And having seen action on Algeron, McKee knew better than to underestimate native troops.

Remy assigned McKee to the point position as usual. Except now she had an additional force of eight Paguumis to act as scouts. They were led by a grizzled veteran named Imon Supatha. It was clear from the beginning that he didn’t like riding with aliens, didn’t approve of female warriors, and wasn’t about to take orders from one. So, for reasons of pride, Supatha was careful to ride well out in front of McKee’s T-1s at all times.

That didn’t trouble McKee in the least since it meant that should an ambush be waiting, Supatha and his scouts were likely to trigger it—thereby giving her legionnaires more time in which to react. Besides, C-3 was aloft and providing a bird’s-eye view of the area ahead. And with a thousand warriors on each flank, there was very little chance of a surprise from the east or west.

No, in McKee’s estimation, the major threat was from the air, which was why every available set of rocket launchers had been mounted on her T-1s, thereby turning four of her bio bods into foot soldiers. An ignominious fate that they resented greatly.

In spite of Supatha’s attitudes, McKee had to give the Paguumi scouts a great deal of credit. Even though the moon wasn’t up yet, and the warriors weren’t equipped with night-vision technology, they had an uncanny ability to find their way over, around, and through obstacles. And although they might veer right or left for a moment, they always came back on course. Did they have compasses? McKee didn’t think so.

Knowing how much the Paguumis loved to ride their zurnas flat out, McKee expected the horde to surge forward and maintain a blistering pace. But the passage of three-thousand-plus bodies created enough friction to slow things down.

As the stars frosted the sky above, and an occasional streak of fire raced across the sky, the horde pushed north. Three uneventful hours passed, and it was almost time for a break when Remy’s voice filled her helmet. “A marine assault boat and six escorts will arrive twenty from now. We’re going to stop so they can take Cowboy aboard.

“Chief Huzz is passing the word to his people—but don’t hesitate to double down on that. The last thing we want is to fire on the jarheads while they are trying to extract Cowboy. Over.”

McKee took a twisted pleasure in delivering the news to Supatha via her drone. Just as she knew it would, C-3 scared the crap out of the Paguumi scout when it appeared out of the sky and spoke to him with her voice. But Supatha got the message and ordered his warriors to pull up. Thankfully, Remy and Huzz were able to bring the rest of the horde to a halt with a minimum of fuss.

—

The roar of repellers announced the boat’s arrival a few minutes later, and Avery took Nicolai out to meet it. “The marines are going to take you up to one of our ships,” Avery told the boy. “You’ll be safe there.”

“I don’t want to be safe,” Nicolai said stubbornly. “I want to stay with
you
.”

Dust flew sideway as the boat put down, and Avery knelt next to Nicolai. He had to yell in order to be heard. “I’m sorry, son . . . But my place is here. With the Legion. Our job is to find your mother—and we need to keep looking.”

Nicolai looked up into the light from Avery’s helmet, and tears ran down his cheeks. “I’m going to miss you, Major John.”

Avery swallowed the lump in his throat. “And I’m going to miss you, Nicolai. Grow up, be strong, and be fair.”

A couple of marines had arrived by then. One of them spoke. “The ridgeheads followed us down. We have escorts, but there’s no telling how many of the bastards are coming this way. We need to lift, sir.”

So Avery led Nicolai over to the shuttle. A pile of supplies had been off-loaded, along with three synths, all of whom wore Ophelia’s livery. Bodyguards then . . . Sent to protect the empress should she be found. The sight of the machines made his blood run cold. Daska was present as well. And he could see that the robot was watching him. “Good-bye,” Nicolai said, then he came to attention. The salute was textbook perfect, as was the about-face. Then the boy was gone.

—

Repellers flared, the assault boat took off, and veered away. Other engines screamed as Tachyon fighters passed over their heads and crossed a field of stars.

McKee was still on point and couldn’t see the boat because the running lights were off. She could watch via her HUD, however, and was about to do so, when Bartov delivered a warning. “This is Charlie One-Three. There is an unidentified aircraft approaching at a high rate of speed from the northeast. I tried to contact it, but there was no response. Request permission to fire. Over.”

The Hudathan fighter was dropping bombs by the time McKee yelled, “This is One . . . Track and fire!”

The cyborgs were widely dispersed but tied together via a shared targeting system. Their rockets sought heat, and most converged on a single target. The combined impacts were sufficient to blow a wing off a fighter. The fuselage hit the ground and cartwheeled two or three times before finally skidding to a stop. McKee had no way to know how many Paguumis were killed by pieces of flying wreckage but suspected that the casualty rate would be high.

“This is Six,” Remy said. “That was some good shooting. Over.”

Such praise was rare, and McKee felt a surge of pleasure. But when she looked at her HUD, she saw that the letters “KIA” had been posted next to three names. Varco, Perodi, and Hamu were dead. She soon learned that seventeen Paguumis had been killed as well. It was with a heavy heart that McKee went to examine the fallen T-1s. If parts could be salvaged from Varco and Hamu, it was her duty to do so even as their brain boxes were being buried. It was the only way that the dead could help the living.

—

SAVAS BASE 001

The base was blacked out. So there was only starlight to see by as Nola-Ba stood on the landing platform and stared up at the heavens. He was in a bad mood and for good reason. In spite of the fact that he was an admiral, the ships under his command were fighting a desperate battle without him.

Yes, he could order a shuttle to land where he was standing, but what then? The Humans had fewer ships but more fighters. Would the shuttle and its escorts be able to fight them off? Or would both he and Empress Ordanus be killed on their way up into space? Because under no circumstances would he leave without her.

Nola-Ba didn’t want to die, but the thought of losing Ophelia was even worse. She was more valuable than an entire fleet of ships. Proof of which could be seen in the fact that the Humans had sent a ground team and a naval task force to find her.

Fortunately, there had been no attempt to attack his base, so she was momentarily safe. Or was she? Nola-Ba felt an unexpected emptiness in the pit of his stomach. There was only one Hudathan base on Savas, and it would be hard to miss from orbit. So why hadn’t the animals attacked by air? Or from orbit for that matter? The answer was glaringly obvious. Because the clanless bastards
knew
Ophelia was there! And didn’t want to harm her.

But
how
? How could they know? Then it came to him, and when it did, the thought was like a thunderbolt out of a clear blue sky. An implant. There was an implant in Ophelia’s body. A way to find her should that become necessary. The device would be very small and powered by an even tinier battery or by her body heat. That was why none of his personnel had noticed it.

Nola-Ba was angry at his subordinates and himself as he opened a blastproof hatch and entered a lift. It took him down into the subsurface maze of rooms that had originally been part of the
Head Hunter
. A dagger commander named Oma-Da was in charge of security. He was asleep when Nola-Ba barged into the compartment that he shared with another junior officer. “On your feet!” Nola-Ba demanded as he slapped a light switch. “We have work to do.”

—

Empress Ophelia Ordanus was sitting on the floor of her cell, leaning back into a corner. She was filthy, dressed in rags, and fighting depression. There had been jubilation at first. The navy had come to rescue her! And Nola-Ba couldn’t take her to Hudatha. But that emotion had begun to fade as hours passed, and there was no attempt to save her. What were they waiting for? If she survived, she would order the Minister of Defense to launch an investigation.

No, that didn’t make sense . . . It would be better to cast the officer in charge as a hero. Then, if he or she
wasn’t
a hero, her synths could . . .

Ophelia’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a muffled voice. Metal rattled. The door banged open. And there, standing backlit in the entryway, was the unmistakable figure of Admiral Nola-Ba. Ophelia felt a stab of fear. Had he come to take her away? Was this the beginning of the trip to Hudatha? “Take her to the interrogation room,” Nola-Ba ordered. “Secure her to the rack and strip her clothes off.”

The Hudathans were going to torture her! Just as others had been tortured. She had heard the screams. Were any of the crew still alive? She hadn’t heard or seen another Human being for a long time.

Ophelia was terrified as two troopers entered the cell and took hold of her arms. Her feet walked on air as they carried her out into the corridor. Less than a minute later, Ophelia found herself in a low-ceilinged room being secured to a metal rack. It was slanted at an angle and positioned over a floor drain. What might have been bloodstains could be seen on the frame. Ophelia feared the worst.

Then came a moment of terrible indignity as the rags were ripped off her body, leaving Ophelia naked for all to see.
They’re aliens,
she told herself.
They aren’t interested in the way you look.
Even though the assertion was clearly true, it did nothing to make her feel better.

No translator was present, but Ophelia knew enough Hudathan to understand the order that Nola-Ba gave. “Scan her. The transmitter will be very small and hidden under the surface of her skin.”

The beacon!
They were looking for the beacon! That had been her hope, the central element in all of her rescue fantasies, and now they were going to take it away! Ophelia fought back the tears as a technician ran a hand scanner over the contours of her body.

The process didn’t take long. An intermittent beeping sound was heard as the device passed over the vicinity of her neck. It grew louder as the technician maneuvered the scanner in behind her skull. “There it is,” Nola-Ba said grimly. “Cut it out.”

Metal screeched as one of the troopers turned the rack over. Ophelia found herself hanging from the straps and staring at the floor. Then she heard movement, felt something sharp penetrate her skin, and screamed. There was a pause followed by
more
pain and a grunt of satisfaction. She couldn’t see Nola-Ba but could hear him. “Well done! Put a dressing on the Human’s neck and flip her over.”

There was a pause while a self-adhesive bandage was applied to the base of her neck. Then came the screech of unoiled metal as they turned her faceup. “Here it is,” Nola-Ba said, as he held the tiny bb-sized globe between two sausagelike digits. “My technicians will hook it to a power source and place it on a zurna. Then we’ll turn the animal loose and let your troops chase it!

“All right,” Nola-Ba said as he turned away. “Take her back to the cell. And find a blanket. Humans are ugly enough with their clothes on.”

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger . . .

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Henry V,
act 3, scene 1, 1–6
Standard year circa 1599

THE HEAVY CRUISER
MARS

In spite of a four-hour nap, Admiral Nigata felt tired as he made his way onto the ship’s bridge. The lights were dim, people spoke in hushed tones, and the atmosphere was more akin to that of a library rather than a warship. Captain Somlyo looked up from the screen in front of him. The light gave his skin a greenish hue. “Good morning, sir. Or is it afternoon?”

“Beats me,” Nigata said, as he dropped into his chair. “What kind of condition is our condition in?”

“The situation is stable,” Somlyo replied. “We haven’t been able to destroy the Hudathan moon base yet. So the ridgeheads own whatever portion of the planet’s surface is available to them at any given moment. That means they can take potshots at the marines and prevent them from coming together. But we’re using the bulk of the planet to prevent the STS cannons from firing on our ships.”

“What about the landings?”

“Most of the jarheads are on the ground, but they’re spread out and trying to get their shit together.”

Nigata nodded. “And the Hudathans?”

“Their troops and armor are on the ground and maneuvering to engage the closest marines. We fire on them from space whenever we can, and our fighters are harassing them. They have some very effective antiaircraft batteries, however, so there’s a limit to what the Tachyons can accomplish.”

“So that’s it?”

“No, sir. There are two new developments. First, the Legion was able to recover Prince Nicolai! He’s on board, and the Doc says he’s in good shape.”

“That’s wonderful,” Nigata said. “Finally, something is breaking our way. And the empress?”

“That’s the other development, sir. Ophelia’s locator beacon began to behave in a very erratic fashion. It left the Hudathan base and began to wander around the desert.”

Nigata frowned. “Is there a possibility that she escaped?”

Somlyo shook his head. “No, sir. We sent some fighters for a look-see. An animal called a zurna was running around free. Once they destroyed it, the beacon stopped moving.”

“So the Hudathans found the beacon, removed it, and are giving us the finger.”

“That’s about the size of it, sir.”

Nigata swore under his breath. “If they decide to move her, we won’t know.”

“That’s true,” Somlyo agreed. “Major Remy has been informed. He and his people are closing in on the base from the south. Unfortunately, they are one day out.”

“Okay,” Nigata said as he studied the holo map that occupied the center of the room. “We don’t have enough throw weight to attack the moon base until we eliminate at least one enemy cruiser. What’s the status of the ship they took under tow?”

“It looks as though the vessel’s propulsion system is still down,” Somlyo replied. “The ridgeheads took it out a way and left a DE to guard it. It seems reasonable to suppose that they’re attempting to bring the drives online. That’s what we’d do.”

Nigata could pick out the red delta that represented the enemy ship now. It was floating well away from the planet, with a single red dot to keep it company. Was there another option? And if there wasn’t, could he bring himself to make the necessary sacrifice? Or, to be more precise, to ask
other
people to make that sacrifice.

Part of what made the decision so difficult were his feelings regarding the empress. She wasn’t worth saving. Not in his estimation. The unnecessary slaughter on Orlo II had been her doing. But what about the Human race? What about
Earth
? Who would take over in the event of her death? And would they be even worse than Ophelia was?

A full two minutes passed before Nigata spoke, and when he did, his voice was dull. “Which gunboat is in the worst shape?”

“That would be the
Leda
,” Somlyo replied. “She took a lot of hits during the opening exchange.”

“Okay. Take her crew off and ask for volunteers. Assuming you get some, put a skeleton crew aboard and order them to attack the damaged cruiser.”

Somlyo looked alarmed. “She’ll never make it, sir. The Hudathans will destroy the
Leda
before she even gets close.”

“I know that,” Nigata said irritably. “But the ridgeheads will be forced to respond by sending more assets to protect the drifter. And once they do, we’ll go after whichever cruiser looks the weakest. With it out of the way, we’ll have a better than fifty-fifty chance of destroying the moon base.”

Somlyo had always been an ambitious man. But now, based on the pain in Nigata’s eyes, he no longer had an interest in making admiral. “Aye, aye, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

—

PLANET SAVAS

Now that the navy had arrived, and Ophelia’s signal had been compromised, Team One-Five could no longer afford to rest during the day and travel at night. In order to reach the Hudathan base before the aliens took Ophelia off-planet, it would be necessary to march from sunset until noon the next day. And Remy would have pushed his people even harder had that been possible.

As a result, they were well inside the territory that the northern Paguumis considered to be theirs. So where were the locals? That’s what McKee wanted to know as Bartov paused just short of a rise. By doing so, he allowed McKee to peer over the top without exposing more than her helmet. It was the sort of thing an experienced T-1 was expected to do without being told. And she made a mental note to mention it later on.

McKee’s visor could provide some magnification. But if she wanted to look a long way out, there was no substitute for her binoculars. So she pushed the visor up in order to glass the area up ahead. The desert shimmered in the heat, and a distant hill appeared to float just off the ground. Supatha and his scouts were out in front of the legionnaires as usual—and she could see the wispy dust trails produced by their zurnas. But no northerners. Not that she
wanted
to see them. It would be wonderful if the team and its allies could attack the Hudathans without having to fight their way through a Paguumi army.

At their present rate of travel, Remy and Huzz planned to arrive at their destination just before dawn the next day. Then, assuming the navy could spare some fighters, the zoomies would prep the area immediately around the installation. Unfortunately, they couldn’t put any ordnance on the outpost itself without running the risk of killing Ophelia. The possibility didn’t bother McKee in the least—but was unthinkable to the high command.

But with or without air support, the ground attack was going to take place, and McKee knew that fighting their way into a well-established Hudathan base was going to be very difficult. Avery was still acting as XO. Would he survive? Would
she
?

McKee pushed such thoughts away to concentrate on the situation at hand. The immediate challenge was to find the one-thousand-gallon water bladder that had been dropped along their line of march. The water wouldn’t be enough to meet the needs of three thousand Paguumis, but it would allow the legionnaires to remain independent and camp separately. The latter was made necessary by the fact that Remy had very little trust for Huzz, who, McKee suspected, had similar doubts about the Human.

Unfortunately, the water bladder wasn’t where it was supposed to be, which was within a hundred yards of the spot where Bartov was standing. That meant the legionnaires would have to home in on the low-power beacon that was attached to it. A potentially dangerous task, what with Hudathans flying around over their heads. But, for the first time in her military career, McKee had real honest-to-God air cover. Three of the navy’s aerospace fighters were flying lazy eights directly above her position. And when they ran low on fuel, more aircraft would replace them. Could they see the water bladder? No, they were too high, and had to be in case the ridgeheads sent fighters to intercept the company.

“Okay,” McKee said. “Let’s proceed in a line abreast. We’ll maintain one-hundred-yard intervals. Maintain your situational awareness and monitor the nav channel. If you hear the beacon, let me know.”

So the squad spaced out and began to sweep forward. Five minutes passed followed by ten more. Finally, just as McKee was about to break it off, Linda Mora spoke. “I’ve got it, Lieutenant . . . Or I think I do. The signal is faint and off to my left.”

“Okay,” McKee said. “Close in on it. We’ll follow.”

When they found it the bladder was resting about two hundred feet from the wreckage of a burned-out shuttle. What had taken place wasn’t clear. Had a fighter been chasing the marines? And jumped them immediately after they dropped the water? There was no way to know. The only thing that McKee could be sure of was that the jarheads had died trying. Now there was more metal for the Paguumis to harvest and more next of kin to be notified.

McKee was forced to swallow the lump in her throat in order to make the call. “Charlie-One to Charlie-Six. The bladder has been located and secured. We will remain here until we’re relieved. Over.”

—

ABOARD THE HEAVY CRUISER
MARS

Admiral Nigata didn’t want to watch the men and women aboard the gunboat
Leda
die—but felt that it was his duty to do so. Especially since few if any of them understood their role as pawn in a much larger game. But he, too, was a pawn for others, all of whom would sacrifice him to protect their queen, and therefore themselves.

Having sentenced himself to do so, Nigata sat in the big chair and turned his attention to the holo tank. Shortly thereafter, a single spark of light left the relative safety of the Human fleet and accelerated out into space. Though currently immobile, the Hudathan warship might still be capable of defending itself, and if that was the case, the lives aboard the
Leda
would soon be snuffed out.

But regardless of that, the Hudathans couldn’t let the gunboat get close enough to fire what could turn out to be a lucky shot. So the ridgeheads did what Nigata
wanted
them to do. They dispatched two DEs out to intercept the Human vessel—and in doing so stripped one of their cruisers of its escorts. That was an excellent beginning.

The sacrifice of the
Leda
wouldn’t be enough, however. Nigata knew that. In order to destroy a ship with a throw weight nearly equivalent to what the
Mars
could produce, he’d have to do something unexpected. Something so crazy the Hudathans wouldn’t understand his intentions. The problem was that his plan
was
crazy, and could quite possibly kill every person aboard the
Mars
, including Nigata himself. Because on his orders, Captain Somlyo and his crew were going to execute a maneuver known as a microjump. A term that referred to a hyperspace jump calculated to move the Mars a mere 250,000 miles. An inconsequential trip when compared to
six trillion
miles or a single light-year.

The difficulty was that hyperspace drives couldn’t deliver such precise movements with any sort of certainty. That’s why ships didn’t enter or exit hyperspace until they were well clear of the celestial objects that might be nearby.

Some experiments with so-called microjumps had been successful, but most had not. So there was a very real possibility that the
Mars
would exit hyperspace outside the Altari system, leaving the rest of Nigata’s ships vulnerable, or worse yet, wind up
inside
the planet Savas. An event that would kill the entire crew and might damage the planet as well.

Nonetheless, Nigata was determined to try it; more than that, he felt he
had
to try it in order to destroy the cruiser and open a path to the moon. So as the Hudathans fired on the
Leda
, Somlyo’s voice was heard over the intercom. “This is the captain. All personnel will prepare for a hyperspace jump in ten, nine, eight . . .”

The crew hadn’t been briefed about the jump, or the risks involved, since telling them wouldn’t make them feel any better about it. Perhaps they thought the
Mars
was going home. But Nigata figured most of them were still thinking about the order when the countdown came to an end, and they felt the usual lurch, and some nausea. That was the moment when the cruiser entered another dimension.

But not for long. The downshift followed seconds later. Nigata’s fingers dug into the armrests on his chair as he waited to die. But he
didn’t
die. And as he felt the second bout of nausea, he was filled with a sense of joy. But where were they? Where they needed to be? Or five million miles out in space?

The answer came via a host of alarms as screens lit up with real-time video of another ship. The
Mars
was less than twenty miles from the Hudathan cruiser! And right where Nigata wanted her to be. Somlyo gave the order to fire. And the crew, all of whom were still at battle stations, complied. Most were just starting to understand what had taken place, but they knew how to follow orders and did what they were told. Torpedoes whispered out of tubes, missiles streaked across the narrow gap, and every energy cannon that could be brought to bear fired in unison.

Having been caught completely unawares, the cruiser’s shields went down. Explosions rippled along the ship’s hull, she shook as if palsied, and her drives fired as the Hudathans sought to escape the unexpected barrage of fire.

But it was too late. A torpedo sailed through an open hatch, entered the main launch bay, and detonated. The blast triggered more than a dozen secondary explosions as fighters blew up. Some were in the process of being refueled. So flames found fuel, followed the substance to its source, and set that off as well. The result was a miniature supernova that consumed all the available oxygen within a few brief seconds and blinked out of existence. All that remained was a debris field that would orbit Savas for a thousand years.